Sons of Krypton
by Lostaholic516
Summary: Two sides of a coin, brothers of the same planet, bred for opposite destinies, their fates forever intertwined. This is the story of Clark Kent and Davis Bloome, and how they changed the course of history. Starts at the ending of season 8.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Looking down at the crowded streets of Metropolis, The Blur stood with his hands at his side, silent and listening. He was high up on the roof of the Daily Planet, looking upon the city, his ears ready to pick up the slightest disturbance. The man stood with an air authority. He lived for a single purpose. His destiny was protecting the world and his name was Clark Kent.

Deep beneath the surface of the earth, a single cry came ringing. It echoed but went unheard. The naked man struggled, trying desperately to breath. But he need not breathe, for he is not a man but a beast; a specimen, a collection of various monsters, an animal with an unquenchable thirst for blood. His purpose: to bring about the destruction of the world. His name was Davis Bloome, and his destiny was Doomsday…


	2. Chapter One: A Twisted Perversion

**Chapter One: A Twisted Perversion**

The ten year old boy was sweating in his sleep, his body convulsing as if the fabric of his being was being torn apart. Every cell and fiber in his body was in pain as he screamed for help, desperately trying to hold onto himself. When the boy opened his eyes, he was lying on a soft white bed. He looked about him, confused. He sat up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. _Who am I?_ The last thing he remembered was being thrown onto the streets. The rest had been a blur.

The door opened ever so softly, and a beautiful blonde woman came walking in. She had on a kind, beautiful, smile, the kind that no one ever truly had, except in stories and fairytale. The boy inched closer to her, almost hypnotized by her radiance.

"Hi," the woman said, her voice so soft that it seemed to flow like silk. "How are you feeling?" The boy blinked, looking dumbly at the woman of thirty. "Any better? You had a fever last night."

"Who are you?" the boy asked after quite some time. The woman's white teeth shined as she sat down on the bed next to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"My name is Rita. You still don't remember?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes. The boy shook his head.

"I don't remember anything." He said. "I just remember being alone." Rita frowned and cupped his cheek with her soft hand.

"You are never alone." She said. "I always going to be there for you."

"I don't remember you." The kid said in protest, frustrated that he couldn't.

"You had a concussion a few days ago. You fell off the monkey bars and hit your head on concrete. The doctors said that you shouldn't even be alive right now. But you healed—fast. They said temporary amnesia is normal." The boy nodded his head, feeling a slight bit better about the world around him.

"Are you my mother?" he asked.

"No," Rita replied. "I didn't give birth to you. But I love you, Davis." The boy blinked at her. _Davis. The name brought no recollection. Not even the slightest hint of personal connection._

"My name is Davis?" Rita nodded her head. "Davis." He repeated, trying to convince himself to like the name.

"Davis Bloome," Rita said. "You are named after your father Daniel Bloome." Davis's face fell. The name Daniel Bloome brought back such an intense rush of memory that Davis literally fell off his bed. On his hands and knees, Davis was sweating again, breathing heavily. He felt a sudden surge of blood rush to his face as pain shot from every inch of his body. But Rita calmly placed a hand on him and he felt as if she was pulling back.

Panting, the young Davis looked into Rita's beautiful face. He threw his arms around her and wept in joy. He loved her and he was loved…

* * *

It wasn't long before Davis got his memories back. He remembered being in several foster homes, where he was abused almost every day until Rita had adopted him. He remembered how Daniel was suddenly found mauled to death by some sort of animal. Rita was distraught, but she and Davis stuck together, side by side. Things didn't get better from there. When he was eleven, they were robbed. Everything in their house was taken, including Rita's life savings. It wasn't much, but it was everything she had. The more hardships they faced, however, the more Davis's affection for Rita grew. By the time he was sixteen, their relationship took a life changing turn…

Davis got home, sweaty and dirty. He took off his jersey, threw it on the couch, and jumped into the shower. The warm water trickled down his body and the worries of the world seemed to wash away. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the closest towel.

"Shit," Davis muttered under his breath. In his rush, he had forgotten to grab a change of clothes. Sighing in frustration, Davis wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door. He stepped out softly, looking left and right, and then advancing towards his room. Just when he was about to reach his room, he heard something. It was a sob...a moan almost. Davis stopped dead in his tracks. Rita wasn't supposed to be home for another hour. He moved closer to her room and pressed his ear against the door. There was another sob. Davis placed his hand on the doorknob and gently crept open the wooden door. He peered inside to find Rita on the ground, her face buried in her knees. She was crying. She looked up at the sound of the opening door, and immediately stood up and turned away. She was dressed in a silk bathrobe that seemed to crease just the right places on her almost flawless body. Davis looked away in shame.

"Davis," she said, her voice still muffled. "Why'd you open the door?" Davis clenched his jaws and looked back at her, finding that he couldn't resist but stare at her curves.

"I—heard a noise. I didn't—know what it was. I thought you weren't home yet—" She turned around, her angelic face illuminating his world as she gazed upon him. He couldn't help but smile as he saw her eyes scan down his muscular body. She bit her lip and looked away. "Why were you crying?" he asked, stepping into the room. "Did someone hurt you?" Rita shook her head as Davis moved in closer to her, looking down at her. He had grown quite tall, nearing six-feet now. "If anyone dared to upset you—I will personally make them pay." He threatened, holding her hand. Rita looked up at him and smiled.

"No—I was just thinking about how lonely I'm going to be when you leave me to go to college." Davis's face softened.

"I'm _**never**_ going to leave you, Rita." He said, looking into her eyes. He kissed her, the first time he dared to do so. And to his surprise, she kissed him back, even more passionately than he. She grabbed his towel and slowly pulled it off. She ran her hands along his abs. "I love you." He said to her.

"I love you, too, Davis." She said. He quickly untied her bathrobe, letting it drop to the ground, revealing her perfect breasts. He picked her put and threw her onto the bed. On top of her, Davis breathed hard as he ran his hands along her body."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, panting, his heart beating so fast in his chest it was almost about to burst open.

"Yes," she moaned…

* * *

"You _**can't**_ leave." Davis pleaded. "I'm almost done. I just need another year or so and I'll have my EMT license. I can provide for us." Davis grabbed her arms, shaking in fear. "_**Don't**_ leave me." Rita pulled her arm away, glaring angrily at Davis. He had had another black out the night before and had awoken naked and bloodied, several hundred miles away from home.

"I can't stand this anymore, Davis. I can't stand _**you**_ anymore. It's making me sick. God knows what you do on these trips you take. I can't keep doing this. You need help."

"I don't need help!" Davis growled. "I need _**you**_. You're the only person in my life that matters. You're my _**whole**_ world, Rita. I can't lose you. I _**won't**_." He didn't know it, but his eyes grew dark red. He felt an intense anger within him, fighting to come out.

"I have to." She said simply. "I never loved you, Davis. It was just perverse and it turned me on at first. Now it's old and stale and I'm sick of your overbearing, over protective, psychotic reaction to every man that happens to find me the slight bit interesting. You need help. You don't need me. You need to get the hell away from me. Or I'm going to get a restraining order."

"You don't mean that," Davis said, shaking his head. The anger was winning. "Say you don't mean that."

"Get the fuck away from me, Davis." Rita spat at him. Everything went black, and the next thing Davis knew, he was lying on the ground. Next to his face was her blonde hair, drenched in blood. Bits and chucks of her were sticking all over the blood-covered room. Davis ran to the sink and vomited. It was the first time he had woken up to a kill. And it made him sick to the bone.

"What the hell did I do?" Davis breathed, falling onto the ground. Swimming in blood, Davis turned over and hurled again. "What the fuck am I?"


End file.
